The lords of the passes are arming their vassalsnYou'll find no shelter that waynThe conscripts they've taken have never returnednAnd our hopes fade with each passing daynnThe gates of the keeps are all closingnAnd broken men wander the roadnThe farmers have fled to the forestsnBurning their fields as they gonnThe dukes of the marches have ordered their archersnTo shoot all outlanders on sightnTurn back your horses before it's too latenThere'll be no safe crossing this nightnnHear the horns, pounding hoovesnVisions of cities aflamenWailing cries, dawn of doomnDie by the sword or in chainsnnMen kneel in temples of madnessnFalse prophets spread discord and fearnDarkness descends once againnThey say the lords of the last days rule here